


just the two of us (we can make it if we try)

by r1ptides



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ptides/pseuds/r1ptides
Summary: when a nuclear apocalypse strikes, only percy and annabeth are within camp borders. together, they must survive the new world.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 48
Kudos: 88





	1. just the two of us

**Author's Note:**

> ok so much to clear up!  
> \- this is a the 100 crossover so characters from it will pop up! if u haven't watched it (its so good btw u really should on Netflix) this fic will still be understandable if anyone reads it.  
> \- I know this isn't canon compliant to it happening in the year 2052. my b  
> \- the 100: when an artificial intelligence is created and told to fix the root of all problem, it replies "too many people" and just nukes the world. hardcore ik. a satellite station with people already on it (? I think) The Ark survives in space for three generations, where they float (send into space alive) anyone who breaks rules. kids can't be killed. they run out of resources so they send 100 delinquents to the ground to test if the earth is inhabitable. chaos ensued  
> \- the 100 timeline will be messed up too im not making praimfaya happen the second time or anything  
> \- this is after pjo. No HoO. maybe the romans will show up idk yet  
> \- everyone else is dead. all gods dead :D  
> \- wash ur hands and social distance I feel like we r in the apocalypse rn  
> \- enjoy??

Kronos was gone, thank the gods. Camp Half-Blood was normally bustling and busy now. New campers were abundant. There had been so many claimings, satyrs were being sent to schools up and down the east coast.

Things were good. 

Annabeth had been busy on Olympus most of the time. The gods had so many demands, or _requests_ they nicely called it. A shrine here, a ten foot sculpture there. 

Percy would join her most of the time. He spent a lot of time with his father, or being scolded by her mother. Athena was still wary of his intentions with her.

Today, there was a field trip. Every camper and satyr went to Olympus, to mingle with the Olympians, meet parents, or just hang out. Annabeth and Percy had spent so much time there, they’d decided it was okay to sit this one out.

Annabeth didn’t like working on sketches there anyways, too many distractions and chaos. 

“Eerie, isn’t it?” Percy asking, lounging on her bed.

“Hm?” Annabeth asked, at her desk sketching and making measurements to rebuild the throne room.

“It’s just us here.”

“Yeah and Mr. D and all the nature spirits to keep us company,” she said, still sketching away.

“Annabethhhhh,” Percy said, gesturing for her to come to him.

“Seaweed Brain, I can’t be distracted, just give me an hour or two.”

“They might be back by then!”

“Oh, and what do we need to be alone for?” she asked, grinning over her shoulder.

Then it happened, like it always did when they were alone. Annabeth closed her sketchbook, and got onto her bed with him, and they began to make out, as usual. 

She got on top of him and pulled his face closer to hers. 

“What’s that about not being distracted?” he asked, smirking. 

“I hate you,” she whispered, studying his bright green eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured into her ears.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the default iPhone ringtone. Normal people would ignore calls at such moments, but Annabeth wasn’t normal. Few people had her phone number, and it was only to be used in the gravest emergencies.

“This better be good,” she said, jumping up.

Percy groaned in annoyance.

 _“Annabeth!”_ her father practically screamed.

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news, radio, anything!”

Annabeth pulled out her laptop from Daedalus, typing in any news source.

 _Nuclear launch codes worldwide hacked_ each headline said simply, as if authors had no time to spare. Under was no article, just a timer. _10:09,_ it read. Every second it went down. 

“Annabeth, listen to me,” her father said shakily.

Percy, gods bless him, seemed to understand immediately. “Big House, let’s go,” he said, voice trembling.

They ran, Annabeth’s phone on speaker and laptop in her arms. “Annabeth, I love you. I- I need to call Helen and the boys, I’m at a meeting hours from home-”

“Dad, this isn’t happening. The world will be irradiated, no one will be able to survive!”

“Sweetie, I know. The bunker at our old house wouldn’t even protect us-”

Annabeth’s mind went numb as Percy wrestled with the aged CHB landline phone, tears streaming down his face as he talked to his mother and Paul. 

“Annabeth!” her father’s voice said again. “Where are you?”

“C-camp.”

“The border should protect you.”

“Dad… no one’s at Camp but me and Percy…”

Minutes went on as the timer counted down. 

“Mr. D!” Percy was yelling up the stairs, pain in his voice. 

Dionysus came down the stairs in all his trailer park cherub glory. “Peter Johnson, this is the one time we have peace and quiet! My nap was-”

“The world is fucking ending!” Percy screamed, grabbing the little man by the shirt. “Do something!”

Dionysus paled. “What did you say?”

“The mortals! Nukes! _Every_ single nuke in the world is being _launched_ in four minutes!”

Percy went between screeching in Mr. D’s face and talking to his parents, desperate for any solution. 

“Annabeth,” her father said once again. “Listen carefully. The irradiation will kill everything. I’m sure you will survive… maybe only you two.”

“Out of 7 billion people?”

“...yes. You will run out of resources quickly, you ship strawberries, right? No magic is going to help you further. You’ll need years, maybe decades, to return to the outside world. My idea is risky and I don’t have much time but… you know what cryogenic sleep is?”

“Preserving the body in cold temperature- yes but-”

“If you can make a capsule with a timer for almost a century, 97 is the predicted number, and Percy manipulates water to ice around it-”

“Dad, that’s insane! I’m not an engineer.”

“Become one. I love you Annabeth-”

“I love you Dad-”

_0:01_

The noise was deafening, and they probably should’ve been deaf if not for the borders.

Both phone lines went to static, then silence. 

“No… not now…” Mr. D murmured, on the floor.

“What’s happening?” Percy asked, panicked.

Mr. D’s form flickered and his skin turned gray.

“The flame… Western Civilization… it’s dying,” Annabeth whispered. “We’re the only two believers left. The gods are gone.”

“My dad,” Percy said sadly. “I never said bye.”

“Do not let the human race die, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase,” Dionysus said weakly.

“I’m gonna miss you somehow, Mr. D,” Percy gave a small laugh through tears.

“I’ll miss you brats too. Mortals… I never thought they would end the world you fought so hard to preserve…”

His form disappeared into nothing.

The two ran outside, but the horizon was _not_ Long Island like normal.

“Where are we?” Percy asked.

Somehow, Camp was on what seemed to be a mountain. In the distance were scorched forests and broken buildings.

“It looks like Washington D.C.” Annabeth said. “The Camp must have moved as New York was destroyed, clinging onto what’s left of Western Civilization. This is where it’s strongest besides Manhattan, what with all the statues and monuments and architecture.”

Annabeth and Percy locked eyes. The only two people left on Earth.

  
  



	2. we can make it if we try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> learning to survive and gaining guidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you BurnedBlueCookie for your ideas! They really helped me w/ the direction this is going!  
> and anyone else reading! I feel like many people won't read a crossover, so im hesitant to tag Bellamy and Clarke as characters. next chapter will prob be Clarke, but if u only have read pjo it won't be hard to follow, its like a mortal pov on percy and annabeth  
> hope u enjoy! thank u for all the kudos and comments

Time felt uncertain, even though they still had their calendar. The nature spirits had rested upon their roots, rocks or lakes, exchanging farewells and fading slowly. Like the gods, they relied on the Western flame. 

The naiads who had always favored Percy wished him luck and to stay strong.

Strength had no meaning anymore. There was only will, or lack of.

Annabeth had some plan for them to survive until the Earth fixed itself in about a century or so. It was so scientific, Percy figured he was better off not trying to comprehend it.

_ Will.  _ His will to move forward was solely because of her. He watched her work in the Hephaestus Cabin, welding parts, making little keypads out of old calculators, writing calculations. He would wordlessly tuck her hair behind her ear as it came out from the messy ponytail. Sometimes, she almost seemed annoyed, and he would take the hint. Their survival seemed to rest on how fast and accurate her work was.

Percy would roam the Camp, trying to make himself useful. Without the normal magic, there was nothing to cook, no magic cups for drinks. It was ironic that a camp for survival had no means of getting food without magic. They never needed to worry about mortal things anyway.

Strawberries. Their only food. Percy grabbed woven baskets from the Big House Attic and spent the day plucking them. The field empty was startling. On a normal day, no matter the time of year, nature spirits, satyrs, the Dionysus twins (the surviving one, nowadays), and Demeter kids would be working their magic with muttered words or outright song. 

Percy grabbed as many as he could. He didn’t mind strawberries, they were great and all. Camp’s were even better. But eating solely strawberries for however long needed made him uneasy.

He wandered the rest of Camp. They had weapons, although there was no use for Celestial Bronze anymore. As far as Percy could tell, Hades was gone, as was his realm and all of the monsters.

Taking inventory became futile. Nothing seemed useful. Food would’ve been nice. Argus had left one  _ Delphi Strawberry Service _ van, which could come in handy in the (far) future.

At one point, Percy just needed to scream. He’d felt so hollow preparing for survival, he barely had time to grieve. 

The sound was raw and cut through the silence of the lifeless world. Annabeth rushed out of Cabin 9. “Percy?”

He felt stupid and weak as she comforted him in the middle of the dining pavillion, rubbing his back and reassuring him. He croaked out about not even remembering what he’d said last to his mom in person, or Paul, or even his father. He never fully told Nico all their quarrels meant nothing to him. He’d never see Grover again, or Chiron, or Tyson, or even Clarisse.

They slept in the Poseidon cabin, together in one bed. Percy missed the sound of the ocean, whether it was always from his cabin or the Sound he didn’t know. Now, there was nothing.

Strawberries quickly got old, literally. Mold formed, and neither were too educated on gardening. They ate what was fresh, although an all strawberry diet isn’t very sufficient or healthy.

One morning, he woke up before Annabeth. He left the bed wordlessly, careful not to wake her, and changed.

Honestly, he could’ve stayed in pajamas this whole time, but clothes gave him a sense of routine, and made him feel less sluggish.

Percy put on a Camp shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and went to the edge of the border, which used to overlook Half-Blood Hill. It has been what felt like weeks since either of them looked outward. When the world first had been scorched, it had been so disorienting to look at. 

Now, it looked nothing like that, as if years had passed rather than weeks. Trees had begun to grow lush green leaves, and the ground had regrown it’s grass. 

Percy was mystified. They’d been told decades would be needed for the Earth to replenish itself… 

Carefully, he reached out to where the border of Camp normally was, where all those years ago Tyson had needed permission to enter. He felt a pressure, a heaviness to the air that separated them from the outside world. Looking to the right, the Golden Fleece was still there, which he hadn’t thought about in so long. It glittered in the early morning sun, although it was vulnerable, unprotected by Peleus.

_ I am healing, with time, _ a feminine voice murmured in his ear.

“Hello?” Percy called out. “Who are you?” his hand instinctively reached for his pocket where he normally had Riptide. Riptide was still there, but he had no idea if the sword retained it’s magic. 

_ Hello, Perseus. A pleasure to meet, although if the world hadn’t ended we would be meeting under different, less pleasant circumstances. _ The voice was feminine and harmonious, yet seemed to have an underlying scratchiness, like a sickly woman.

Percy retained his stance. “You’re in my head. I’m losing it, is  _ that _ it?” Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if he went batshit and Annabeth needed to make him a straitjacket. This all seemed so unreal.

_ Opposite, I am everywhere below your feet. When the gods fall, I am the sole survivor. My domain can be sickened, but I remain. I am too ancient to die with them. _

“Domain…” he whispered to himself. “You’re Earth. Kronos’ mother.”

_ Hm, interesting title. Yes, I am his mother. My son didn’t think big enough. If the mortals did not cause this all, I was planning to return with my other sons and kill you all. _

Percy snorted. “Sounds about right, thanks for the heads up.” So it was this, the world ending by mortal hand, or the world ending by this woman. Percy hated to think about it, about another war, but he would choose that in a second over the world as it was. 

_ You misunderstand me. That was what I would have done. My sons and daughters, my accursed grandchildren, they are all gone. All I have is a great-grandchild and a great-great-grandchild left. I intend on helping you two. The last of my bloodline. _

“Gaea, that’s your name right? You wouldn’t believe how many gods have said that, then proceeded to screw us.”

_ I would, actually. I have watched you as you roamed this Earth, Perseus. Or Percy, that’s what you go by? Hm, silly name. I prefer Perseus. In my slumber, I watched all of my family. But you stood out to me, you were Olympus’ saving grace. My son couldn’t manipulate you, nor kill you. _

_ Even now, I watch this Earth. I want to offer you and the Athena child guidance. Your shocked expression was correct, the world has aged as you went about your days. This camp has little magic left, the remnants of the pantheon are in this camp, doing all they can to help the last two of Olympian blood survive. I watched you at the casino, where Hades placed his children. This camp is acting similarly. _

Percy pondered the load of information. “So we can’t age inside?”

_ Yes. So tell your girlfriend her silly science project, the ice sleeping to preserve your bodies? You do not need it. I never cared for science- _

“Can I go get her? So she can speak with you as well?” Percy interrupted. He wasn’t the best at relaying information, and if this was the key to their survival, he’d like for Annabeth to hear it firsthand.

_ Don’t worry, we will speak again soon. Now, I must rest. If I were you, I would go hunting soon. Strawberries will not sustain you forever. And one more thing: know you two are not alone. _

  
  



	3. the calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as the 100 plan for war, Lincoln offers a strategy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is after 1x10 (I am become death) and before 1x11 (the calm). season 1 will be going differently from here obviously aha
> 
> also after spending two hours going through trigedasleng dictionaries I made two words im not even sure are right
> 
> hayonhefa (god+man)  
> hayonplana (god+woman)  
> hayon is "high one" that is sometimes used as god, although haihefa also is, I liked hayon better to make a new word.   
> so yeah!!
> 
> writing tv fan fiction is so hard tbh like im trying to follow the plot/some dialogue but im struggling

Cheers went up as Monty, Raven, Jasper and Bellamy returned to the dropship site. By detonating the bomb, they’d destroyed the bridge the Grounders planned on using to attack their camp. All seemed well, or so Octavia thought.

“Lincoln!” she cried out, entering his cave. “They did it, they broke the bridge,” she told him, grabbing his hands.

Lincoln turned his head, it seemed as though he already knew. “You all have no idea what you’ve just done. The Mountain Men will destroy you all, this is just the beginning. We need to leave-”

“The who?”

“I’ll explain on the way, we need to go-”

Octavia stepped away. “I can’t leave my brother, my friends,” she said.

Lincoln seemed deep in thought. “There is one way you may survive. Your people… they are like the people of before Praimfaya-”

“What?” Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow at the Trigedasleng word.

“What we call the event that scorched the world. There are… people, like yours. If they were to become your allies, my people wouldn’t dare offend yours.”

Octavia waited for him to explain further, but Lincoln gathered his bag. “I’ll explain further to your brother and Clarke, let’s hurry.”

“Grounder!” Someone screamed out inside camp, near the gates. Clarke hurried over, gun slung over her shoulder.

“No, you dolt,” a girl retorted quickly, and loud for everyone to hear. “It’s just Octavia and… Lincoln.”

“Oh, so  _ grounder-pounder,” _ some other guy snickered. Clarke rolled her eyes. The guy was lucky Bellamy was out of earshot, or the guy would be the one pounded- and not like that.

Octavia entered camp, Lincoln in tow. Everyone tried not to make it obvious they were staring, and headed over to where Bellamy and Clarke had congregated. “We’re not safe,” she said first and foremost. “Lincoln has an idea.”

Clarke grimaced. This was just confirming her idea that the bomb wasn’t enough to scare off the grounders. Plus, they had bigger problems, like the food shortage. 

Bellamy gave a nod to Lincoln. “Let’s talk inside.”

Inside the dropship, Raven was working. Bellamy gestured for her to follow up the ladder. Lincoln seemed uncomfortable being in the place they’d tortured him.

Everyone got settled, waiting for Lincoln to explain, but Octavia spoke first, anxious to start the conversation.

“Lincoln says we’re not alone.”

Clarke snorted. “We’ve noticed, we’ve been at war with grounders.”

“No, there are people like us, they’re not integrated into grounder culture. The grounders respect them, right? We need to ally with them.”

Everyone looked to Lincoln. “Who are these people?” Bellamy asked.

Lincoln looked pensive. “They are not exactly… people. We call them Hayonhefa and Hayonplana.”

Clarke repeated the words to herself in her head. “Hayon… what does it mean?”

“In English, the closest thing would be god,” Lincoln responded. 

“So what, they’re like in charge of the grounders?” Bellamy said.

Lincoln shook his head. “They do not associate with our capital city, Polis. They’re not in charge of anything. They are gods.”

Raven suddenly laughed, which Octavia shot her a dirty look for. “C’mon, you’re telling me there are gods? Is that a metaphor.”

Surprisingly, Lincoln didn’t look offended. Clarke studied his face, he was completely serious, as if speaking respectfully about religion. “Lincoln, why do the grounders think they’re gods?”

Lincoln clasped his hands together. It felt like they were about to be read a story, gathered in a circle. Raven looked like this was a waste of time when she could be working, strategizing. Bellamy was stoic. Octavia sat forward, like an eager child. Clarke tried to be calm and open minded. To her, the grounders were primitive, barbaric people. A story about some gods just furthered the idea.

“They were first seen a few years after Praimfaya- when the world was scorched, a man and a woman. They did not join a tribe and did not develop our language. They hunted mostly on the outskirts of my village. Overtime, my people kept seeing them, yet they never seemed to age.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure it was the same people, and not some myth or something?”

Lincoln nodded. “They sometimes spoke in English to people. They favored my village, something about a statue there. One day, an Azgeda king-”

“Azgeda?” Clarke questioned.

“Ice Nation, they are the cruelest tribe. They have absolute rulers, like kings and queens. The king at the time claimed to be a god, immortal, like them. He wore orange, the color they always wore. He believed killing them would give him their power of endless life. One day, he and his small army approached Hayonhefa, the man, while he was hunting. It was close to here, they say. The Ice King threw a spear right towards Hayonhefa’s heart.”

“So he’s dead,” Bellamy guessed.

“No, the spear seemed to bounce off his skin, as if it was made of iron. It ricocheted back with such force, it went through the Ice King, killing him instantly. His troops fled.”

Raven shook her head. “Sounds like a story they tell you, with a moral like ‘don’t be power hungry.’”

“I would think that too, but as a boy they visited my village. After the Azgeda king encounter, they approached our people less and less. They were seen months, or years apart. They came to my village on occasion, I saw them speak with our elders, I assume they considered them wise enough to not try to kill them. My grandfather was fond of them. Hayonplana taught me how to draw personally. She looks a lot like you, Clarke, light-haired, gray-eyed. They would bring the elders gold coins, which they said we would one day bury with them.”

“Why?” Clarke inquired. 

“They said it was to cross into their people’s afterlife. If we believed enough, it would be revived, and we could live in paradise.”

Octavia and Bellamy seemed to be looking at each other.

“What? What are you guys thinking?” Clarke asked.

“We’ve heard that idea, in books Bellamy used to read me,” Octavia said.

Bellamy nodded. “Stories about ancient heroes. A golden coin was for passage across a river, to the Underworld. Into the realm of Hades, god of the Underworld in Greek myths.”

“C’mon guys, you’re not seriously buying this,” Raven interrupted. “Clarke,” she pleaded. “It’s physically impossible to live so long and never age.” Raven was trying to communicate an idea Clarke knew everyone outside was thinking: the Grounders were people of the long before past, they were undeveloped, warriors who used swords. Clarke was full of doubt herself. With her medical knowledge, delaying the process of aging was impossible. Especially here, incredible scientific developments were made in hitech labs, not a world barren of technology.

Clarke decided to humor the idea, so they could get out of there and back to preparing for war. “So what? We find these gods and they just defend us?”

“If they ally themselves with you, your enemy would not dare disrespect them. Even our commander looks up to them, and would kneel at their feet. But I have met them myself, they are good people. They would be interested in you all, and probably wouldn’t let you be slaughtered.”

“Probably,” Raven echoed. “Whatever, I’ll be working while you guys do a rain dance for the great gods to save us.”

_ “Grounder!” _ a voice outside screamed.

They hurried outside, guns pointed. The gate opened, and four of the largest guys at camp were holding a girl struggling in their grip. One of the guys had a bloody slash down his arm, another had two black eyes. She was tall and thin, but fought like a tiger, clawing her restrained hands into their skin, drawing blood with her nails. Her blonde ponytail was a frizzy mess, and her gray eyes were ablaze with anger. 

She wore a large, weathered jacket that wasn’t half as bad as any of their clothing, with faded writing on it: Goode Swim Team. Underneath was a faded orange t-shirt. Her clothing was nothing like Clarke had ever seen before, except in photos. It was what was worn before the world ended. 

“Are you going to let me go, or going to bleed out?” she growled to one of the guys holding her.

Next to Clarke, Lincoln dropped to his knees. Octavia followed suit. “Hayonplana,” he said, bowing his head.

  
  



	4. days disappear into months into years

Percy had never been a fan of hunting. Nor had he grown up somewhere to hunt, in Manhattan the closest thing was probably the budding psychopathic children who pelted pigeons with rocks.

Nor had he grown up with a dad to take him. If anything, his father was a fisherman (or maybe he wasn’t, Percy had never seen him actually do it).

Now, Gaea told them it should become a norm. Percy’s best friend was half goat who didn’t appreciate animals being killed. Hopefully he was reincarnated as a little flower somewhere and wouldn’t have to watch.

Gaea was only a voice for the time being. She guided them to animals when they hunted, told them of the other humans that had survived, and basically just was present when she pleased and Percy and Annabeth were outside, making contact with the Earth 

Her voice was warm, motherly, like Mother Nature in stories. They’d had to get over the whole “if mortals hadn’t ended the world my plan was to kill you all” pretty fast, Gaea pestered them with maternal instincts. She told them that maybe “the gods weren’t all bad, if they made two heroes such as yourselves.” A compliment from someone who despised them, Percy assumed.

At first, Annabeth had doubted Gaea’s motives, but after a while that thought had been abandoned. What motive could she have besides to heal from the nuclear war her domain had endured?

Things started to seem okay, which was hard to say considering everyone he loved except one person had died a fiery death because of mortals stupidity. Percy watched the Earth flourish from the years passing before his eyes. 

Some hunting trips, he even saw people. They dressed in thick, dark clothing of what must have been all the fabric scraps they saved. They watched him with curiosity (or maybe it was the bright orange shirt, not that he ever had any other clothes at Camp), so he gave a little wave. Gaea warned him to keep a distance, humans would attack what they do not understand, and that the new age of humans had become territorial. The ones nearby called themselves Trikru, which Percy had no idea the meaning of, but it sounded cool. 

One hunting trip in particular had a mishap, where some huge guy and about ten behind him approached Percy as he was looking for a deer. 

The guy was wearing orange tattered cloth on his jacket, and had a big helmet that must’ve marked him as leader. Out of nowhere, he chucked the spear at Percy. He fully intended on impaling him.

Percy didn’t appreciate the gesture. Wasn’t it common courtesy to speak before a fight? Or was Percy just too used to pompous gods who had evil monologues for ten minutes before any action happened? 

Anyways, it all happened so fast the spear bounced off his chest and right back into the guy. His other men scattered. 

It was mildly traumatizing, also majorly confusing. Gaea told him once again some of the new humans were barbaric.

Months (probably years in reality) later, he and Annabeth found a little boy wandering the woods, playing in the stream. He was holding a rock, tracing symbols on tree bark. 

Annabeth approached him carefully, his eyes had become the size of dinner plates at them. They must have looked quite different from his people. 

“Hello,” she said, giving a wave, inching forward. She began to reach into her bag, when the boy pulled a knife out of his ragged coat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Percy said, stepping in front of Annabeth.

Gaea muttered to both of them about leaving the boy alone, but Annabeth brought a sketchbook and pencil out. “Do you draw?” she asked.

The boy gave her a blank stare. 

“I don’t think he speaks English,” Percy whispered to her.

“Hm,” Annabeth said. “They must have developed a new language due to-”

“Okay, okay, give the little dude the paper and pencil before he tries to skewer you,” Percy interrupted. 

Annabeth nodded, and held them out to him. “Here, take these,” she said. 

The boy put the knife down at his feet slowly. He slowly grabbed the items from Annabeth. Opening the sketchbook carefully, he looked at her in curiosity.

Annabeth mimicked the action of using a pencil, which he mirrored. The pencil was awkward in his hand, like a left handed person trying to write with their right hand, or vice versa. 

He began to draw a messy picture, line after line. It became apparent what it was. “The Lincoln Memorial, it must be nearby,” Annabeth told Percy. 

Percy squinted at it. Surely enough, it was a man in a seat. “Wanna go see it?” he asked.

The boy heard them. “Lincoln,” he repeated. He pointed to himself. “Lincoln.”

“He must live near there,” Percy said. He nodded to the boy. “Can you take us,” he gestured to himself and Annabeth, “to Lincoln?”

The boy's dark eyes narrowed in frustration, the conversation was obviously not going his way. “Lincoln.” he repeated, pointing to himself. 

_ I could guide you there, _ Gaea told them.  _ His people are there, but they are friendly.  _

“Lead the way then, Dirtface,” Percy said, a nickname he and Annabeth made up for her when she was difficult. “Could’ve told us before there were  _ some _ people we were allowed to see.”

“Let’s go,” Annabeth said to the little boy. “Keep the sketchpad, you’re pretty good.” She gave him a smile and made a gesture to tell him the book was his.

He gave a toothy smile.  _ “Mochof,” _ he said, bouncing up and down to follow Percy.

“Mochof,” Percy repeated, nodding. “Wonder what that means.”

As it turned out, the kid’s name was Lincoln, they learned from his grandfather, also named Lincoln. The man spoke English, as he said their warriors do. 

Many of the other people in the village bowed their heads to them. “Huh, wonder why they do that,” Percy whispered to Annabeth. “Must be some custom for meeting people, nice crowd.”

Lincoln Senior told them it was an honor for them to come to the village, which Percy didn’t understand considering all they’d done was give his grandson blank paper and a writing utensil. Back in school, Percy was not a fan of that, it normally meant it was time to write an essay.

Gaea allowed them to frequently stop by the village, although it always was years apart despite seeming like weeks. 

One day Lincoln told them he would probably not see them again, his time was near an end. It was hard to say goodbye to their closest friend besides the literal Earth who doubled as an overprotective grandmother. 

Annabeth fished in her bag for something. She pulled out a drachma, which she must’ve had in there for years. She handed it to Lincoln.

“For your travel,” she told him. “When you pass, have it with you. Believe it will get you on the ferry from this life onto the next.”

Percy was in awe of how sage she sounded, but he got the idea. If enough people were buried with Greek customs, maybe the Underworld could return, or at least begin again.

Lincoln nodded gratefully. “Thank you Hayonplana, Hayonhefa.”

There were those names again. They had told the man their real names before, but the village people insisted on them for some reason, whatever they meant.

“I’m going hunting, we need food,” Annabeth insisted one morning. It was so early, the sun had only just begun to rise. She crawled out from under his arms and got dressed. 

Percy groaned. “Can we go later?”

Annabeth shook her head. “Need to start the day, Seaweed Brain.” She put her messy blonde hair into a bun and grabbed Percy’s old swim jacket. “I’ll just go now, go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” he decided, rubbing his eyes. “Be careful,” he said, tossing her her backpack.

“How could I not, with Mama Bear watching my every move,” she laughed.

“Bring back something good, and don’t go too close to that rocketship Gaea was talking about.” 

Apparently a bunch of space people had arrived a couple days ago, Gaea explained. They were a bunch of stupid teenagers who partied loudly in the woods, scaring off all the animals in the area. 

Annabeth had been intrigued. People must have been in space prior to the nukes and created a self sustainable society within a space station, and were finally coming down. Why just teenagers, they were unsure, but Annabeth probably wanted some of their technology, or to know how they survived. 

Percy wanted to know too, but Gaea would lose it if they approached them. 

“I’ll be safe! Love you!” Annabeth promised as she left the Poseidon Cabin. Percy pulled the sheets back over his head and went to sleep for an hour or so, then left the cabin himself.

Gaea’s voice immediately filled his head, as she could only do when he was outdoors. “Annabeth’s been taken.”

  
  



	5. worlds collide

Everyone in the camp froze, eyes flicking between the girl and Lincoln as he kneeled.

“So, did we catch ourselves a Grounder queen? Is this your queen, Lincoln?” one of the guys with a grip on her snickered.

“Lincoln?” the girl echoed. “Is that you?”

Lincoln nodded.

Clarke’s mind raced. All eyes were on her, and she needed to make a decision. The gates were closed behind the guys, and she didn’t suspect they could hold her much longer. Even as the girl spoke, her nails still dug into their skin, fighting to be free.

If they let her go, would she run? Would she murder them all with her nails? She was no goddess if four teenage boys could subdue her, Clarke decided.

She had the looks of a warrior. Her gray eyes were full of anger and constantly moving, surveying their set up. The girl studied all the structures and tents The 100 had put up, their work stations, and the dropship. Her eyebrows furrowed every second, as if someone else was speaking to her and she was absorbing their words.

“No, don’t send him, I’ll handle this,” she whispered. 

Another guy grimacing from her scratches let out a laugh. “Are you crazy? Who are you talking to?”

Clarke needed to act, because Bellamy to her side was looking to her, and Lincoln and Octavia were still bowing to this obviously human girl. “Bring her into the drop ship,” she commanded. “Lincoln, Octavia, Bellamy, let’s go.”

Everyone made way and the burly guys holding her dropped her roughly inside. The doors closer after her. 

Bellamy’s hand was on his hip, itching to grab his gun in case the girl tried anything.

Lincoln rushed to her side. She groaned from the drop. 

“Lincoln?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s me. I’m so sorry Hayonplana-”

She laughed softly despite being in obvious pain. “You speak English now.”

Raven came downstairs. “What’s all the commotion-” She focused on the girl. “No way, the rain dance worked, would you look at that.”

The girl sat up quickly. “What, is it a crime to hunt in your woods?” She spit at them.

Clarke disregarded the question. She decided to play it safe, rather than just spitting back at the girl. “I’m sorry, those four have about 2 braincells between them. They shouldn’t have grabbed you. We’re just… on the look out right now, for Grounder attacks.”

The girl began to stand, a whole 4 inches taller than Clarke. “What’s a Grounder?”

Raven laughed. “You’re joking, right? This is our savior, the great goddess? Doesn’t even know what a Grounder is.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? I didn’t come for you people… I was just hunting. I was curious though, to hear people landed from space.”

Even though they both spoke English, it felt like the girl didn’t understand them. “Are you from space?”

The girl shook her head. 

Clarke studied the situation. Obviously, this was no goddess. And they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. But if the Grounders really respected her as Lincoln said they did…

“I’m Clarke,” she said stepping forward, putting out a hand to shake. “You’re… Hayonplana?” 

The girl complied, returning a firm handshake. “That’s what Lincoln’s people call me. My name’s… Annabeth,” she seemed hesitant in sharing. “I hope we don’t have to be enemies.”

“We don’t,” Octavia butted in quickly. “Octavia,” she introduced herself.

_ Annabeth, _ it sounded like an old name. Annabeth nodded to Octavia. “I trust you’re mostly good people, since you know Lincoln? And that you won’t shoot me?” she asked, gesturing to Bellamy’s hand on his gun.

Bellamy let go. “Grounders, that’s what we call the people born here, but you don’t seem like one of them. We were hoping you could help us since you’re one of their gods.”

Annabeth seemed surprised by this. “Me? A god?” she seemed both horrified, and like it was mildly funny. “I’m no god,” she shook her head. 

Lincoln seemed taken aback by this. 

Everything was such a _ miscommunication, _ Clarke decided. “Even if you’re not, they think you are. Can we exchange stories, if that’s alright with you? We can trust each other, and hopefully you’ll see we don’t deserve to be slaughtered. We just want to survive this planet. Your support might save us.”

Annabeth seemed to take this into consideration. Her eyes were big and gray and full of thought. Clarke considered herself pretty brave, but under Annabeth’s intense stare and towering height, Clarke almost wanted to back down. Before Clarke could plead even more, Annabeth’s scary stare softened, and she looked like any other teenager. “Alright.”

Just as Clarke was about to gesture for everyone to sit, the dropship doors opened. “We have a problem,” Jasper said exasperated, as if he’d sprinted there. He showed Clarke a small radio device.

Annabeth’s eyes widened and she started towards Jasper, face becoming all serious again.

“We could use that!” Raven piped up at the same time, going to grab for it. She too started walking towards Jasper, a determined look on her face to beat Annabeth to it. But a low, rough voice on it stopped her.

“Listen up, space freaks. Touch a hair on her head and I’ll fucking kill you all. I’m on my way.”

  
  



	6. enter percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone please tell me what to do next im so stuck LMAo I really don't wanna have to rewatch these episodes to like transcribe the dialogue also I don't have too much of a plot yet im hoping for mount weather   
> my Tumblr is tridentgum im begging if anyone reads this help ahaha its all I write anymore

Bellamy Blake was having a rotten day even before the kid in the white van drove through their gate.

Octavia was his priority, and she wasn’t too keen on being where she belonged. Of course she’d gone to Lincoln’s cave, to do God knows what. (From some rumors he’d overheard, he didn’t want to know.)

Then there was the uneasiness in camp that blowing up that bridge wouldn’t stop the Grounders. Clarke and him had agreed, the war was still brewing.

Finally, the most imminent issues. Food supply was low, and if they miraculously survived the Grounder attack, they might starve. They needed to send out hunting parties. They would’ve done that sooner if not for the blonde girl, which wasn’t Clarke.

After Lincoln’s story about the gods amongst them, he was expecting someone out of a book he read. Like Athena, who was prominent in the worn copy of The Odyssey he’d read Octavia as a child. Athena was beautiful, tall, gray-eyed, strong, and probably wearing those drapey clothes ancient Greeks did. Athena would help them with her infinite power, as she helped Odysseus.

This girl was maybe half of that. Beautiful, yeah, Bellamy could say that. She looked like those super models in old magazines they had on the Ark. Tall, lithe, pretty faced. So there was that, she was tall too. Even gray-eyed, oddly enough.

Her clothes were far from those of ancient Greece, but they were something he’d never seen in person. Her jeans were a tad dirty, holes in the knees as if it were an old fashioned statement. Her shirt was full of color compared to anything he’d ever worn. Even her jacket, black with something about a school swim team, looked to be in great condition.

All of the clothes on the Ark were hand-me-downs over the hundred years they’d been up there. Worn, colorless, drab. 

And then there was the fact the girl was unable to escape the early morning scout party, and was clawing at their wrists with her nails to escape.

All in all, a half assed goddess. Like Athena had made a bootleg modern version of herself and tossed it off Olympus to help people, but it hadn’t seemed interested in helping.

Clarke took charge, with her silver tongue and quick thinking. Bellamy was grateful she was there, he’d barely processed the scene before him at the time.

There seemed to be no impending danger until Jasper showed up with the radio. Ah, radios. Bellamy wasn’t fond of them, after the whole destroying Raven’s situation.

“We have a problem,” Jasper said, holding it up for everyone to see. His eyes were on Clarke, though.

“Listen up, space freaks. Touch a hair on her head and I’ll fucking kill you all. I’m on my way,” the low voice said. It was eerily calm, like the speaker already had prepared to slaughter the whole camp. From the tone, Bellamy figured this guy was capable.

“Give it to me,” Annabeth demanded immediately. Everyone was shaken up and unable to react it took Jasper a moment to toss it to the stranger.

“Are we gonna die?” he asked shrilly. He looked like he was going to piss himself, which Bellamy would’ve normally found hilarious, but it wasn’t the time.

Annabeth spoke into the device. “Seaweed Brain? Hey? I’m okay, don’t worry. Can you hear me? Just say something-” She pounded on the wall in frustration to the lack of response. 

“Who was that?” Bellamy asked, although his question was quickly ignored.

Annabeth set her eyes on Clarke, as if no one else was in the room. “Let me outside, I might be able to communicate with him.” 

Clarke looked surprised. “Why outside? Would it work better outside?”

Annabeth seemed to be gritting her teeth. “If you don’t all want to be slaughtered, just trust me and let me outside.”

Clarke nodded wordlessly and led the way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Raven interrupted. “We’re trusting she won’t go out there and attack everyone? She’s not gonna do some witchy god magic and call down lightning or something?”

Annabeth gave Raven snide look. “Lightning, good idea. Just let me stand outside,” she turned back to Clarke. “You don’t want to see my boyfriend bust down your gate and knock some heads, right?”

Clarke pursed her lips. “Raven, leave her alone. Come on out, Annabeth.”

As soon as the sunlight hit Annabeth’s face, her face contorted and her eyes were towards the ground, as if listening. She began to whisper to the ground, but the words were odd. It was like they were completely different noises. “Hey, Lincoln, what’s she saying?” he asked.

Lincoln shook his head, still focused on his goddess. “That is not my language.”

Octavia was watching them and Annabeth like it was a game of tennis. Her eyes flitted back and forth, finding interest in both with those innocent, bunny eyes. 

“Lincoln, you know the guy coming? You think we can take him if we need to?”

Lincoln seemed solemn. Yeah, right, he wouldn’t be the one getting attacked by scary voice guy. “You wouldn’t stand a chance. He has skin of iron.”

Of course, this was the guy on his way, the guy from the story.

What was he, Achilles?

Annabeth stomped on the ground. “He’s driving, he can’t hear me.”

Raven snorted. “He was supposed to hear you talking to the grass?”

Annabeth disregarded her.

“Driving?” Bellamy inquired. 

Annabeth nodded.

“Whoa, we could use a car! Got any to spare?” Jasper asked, seemingly recovering his wits.

Annabeth smiled softly, man could this girl go from raw anger to normal teenage girl looks. “Sorry, our only one that was safe when… the nukes happened.”

Jasper’s eyes bugged out. “You were there?”

Annabeth looked like she wanted to explain, when all hell broke loose.

In seconds, the 8 feet tall wooden wall that had taken so long to construct was demolished by a white vans that was probably in decent condition before it plowed through, denting the hood and smashing the windows.

The windows could’ve come out in better shape if three or so of their own fired at it, a few shots each at the driver. 

“Stand down!” Bellamy demanded as loudly as he could, although the driver should be dead from impact, shattered windows and of course the multiple bullets.

But no, nothing was ever simple anymore. People on this planet spoke a strange language, had warriors, and now could survive anything. Those born on the Ark had a lot to catch up on.

The door swung open and now even more guns were pointed.

The guy was maybe six feet even, dark haired and green eyed. His face was dead serious, which made his sharp, angular features even scarier. He had a sword in his hand, which was not the first sword Bellamy had seen on Earth, and what appeared to be a bronze breastplate like he was in between gladiator shifts or something.

Bellamy was going to need to get used to the weirdness, so he shrugged it off.

Gladiator guy pulled something out of his thick hair and threw it to the ground. Bellamy thought it was a gross bug or something, but he realized it was a bullet that had nestled itself into the front of the guy’s little hair swoop. 

“You- you should be dead-” one of the shooters said.

Annabeth stood by Clarke, arms crossed and unimpressed. “You know, you’re really dramatic.”

  
  



End file.
